One Size Does Not Fit All


Choosing the right storage unit has made me feel a bit like Goldilocks. My preferred facility recommends a 10 x 20 for the contents of a three-bedroom house. Yet my three-bedroom home doesn’t contain all the stuff a typical one might have. I’m getting rid of some furniture (though I do have lots of books in the garage). I suspect I can get away with a storage unit perfect for the contents inside a two-bedroom apartment. That said, several storage sizes appear to work for this purpose. It all depends on how many business records I have—how much sports equipment, electronics, extra boxes, appliances, and gardening supplies.

I was happy to discover several online videos meant to help people visualize how various storage unit sizes would work for different piles of things. Still, doubt keeps pricking me when I least expect it. I go over the range of spaces in my mind. I think about all of my stuff. I just can’t figure out which dimensions will work the best. I’m afraid my storage unit will be too small and end up frustrating my movers. Or it will be too big, thus becoming a money drain.

I’ve thought about getting rid of excess stuff. Minimalism is all the rage right now, and I’ve been finding the concept more appealing. If I’m not mistaken, minimalism used to be called Simple Living – before that, “The Good Life,” free of the fetters of consumerism. I always feel warm and fuzzy when I hear people espousing the benefits of this sort of lifestyle. But since I decided to start a new chapter on the fly, I feel the need to hedge my bets. I’m not quite ready to get rid of things that might lighten my load. I might need them down the road (writing projects come to mind, camping trips, a budding resolve over a crucial exercise regimen).

Besides, I’ll probably come back and grab a bunch of this stuff in six months. If my storage unit ends up containing enough room for me to throw down a mattress, I can always move everything into a smaller one. Surely a few volunteers would be willing to help me haul my stuff from one unit to another. If not, I can always hire an extra set of hands (I think there is a company in town that goes by this very name).

There are other moving issues that keep me up at night. Will I get my new address to everyone who needs it? Do I still have all of my “second keys” (PO Box, etc.)? Will I remember to cart my Mini Box back to Cox? Have I kept the necessary moving records for my accountant? Am I storing something I’m really going to need later? I’m packing for my new life. Yet I’m also packing for a vacation in Italy. This is my gift to myself for surviving cancer treatment and making it to retirement. Last April—before I started chemotherapy—I made a point of renewing my passport with the hope that I would be using it as soon as I became cancer-free. This intention has held firm—I am now scheduled to spend time overseas. I packed my bags for Italy first, because I didn’t want to store something that should be in my suitcase.

For the record, I’ve already blown this last one. My REI travel towel now rests somewhere in a pile of boxes stored in one closet. As most of my things are already in boxes, I’m not going to go through them now. I’ll have to buy another towel before I hit the road (another thing to remember as I prepare the house for its next occupants).

I suspect my obsession over storage is really about something else. Have I chosen a life that will end up just right? Or did I just discard one that should have been left intact? As the days barrel toward my departure from San Diego, burgeoning conviction over the rightness of my plans reassures me. My gut is not waffling. And if this new life really isn’t just right, one major change can always lead to another. Goldilocks did try out three sets of furniture after all.